


Dark and Stormy

by DunkinLove



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Comfort, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Thunder and Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 16:30:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5935144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DunkinLove/pseuds/DunkinLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaby seeks comfort in the midst of a storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark and Stormy

She feels her mother's arms around her, holding her firmly, almost painfully, as the world around them shakes. Gaby's face is burrowed in her coat but that doesn't stop her from hearing the people around her shriek as panic rises in her own throat. They are a huddled mass of humanity in the belly of the Earth. Each blast from above loosens a shower of dust and soil and elicits another round of cries. The roars from above are getting closer and Gaby twists in the fabric of her coat, trying to escape deeper into the ground. Her mother is gone. _Is this when I never see her again?_ Gaby wonders. A clap of a bomb blast sounds near her ear and she's suffocating, they have all been crushed-

Gaby awakens with a gasp, heart pounding in her chest and the cold prickle of sweat rolling down her spine. She looks around a dark room in confusion, still panting. She is alone and the air is cool and fresh, no longer choked with the smell of dust and people. 

There is a gust of wind and a window is thrown open against the wall with a crash making Gaby whip her head around in fear. The rings of the curtains clatter as the fabric is caught in the moving air, whipping about furiously. A flash of lightening illuminates the room and the distant sound of thunder comes through the open window.

Gaby's breathe eases as she returns to the present, her hand at her chest to calm her thrumming heart. A thunderstorm. She sighs. This has happened many times before, in the dead of night when violent weather dredges up memories and fears she has long since wanted to forget. 

The room is drenched in a blue flash and the window taps against the wall in another gust. Gaby gathers her courage and emerges from her bed. She pads across the bedroom floor with the legs of a woman; no longer the little girl in her nightmare. Nonetheless, she still feels the fears of a child in a dark room as she grabs the window to throw it shut and close the latch.

Gaby swiftly retreats back to the bed just in time to cover her head with a pillow as a nearby lightening strike shatters the darkness and fills the room with a terrible roar. Gaby's arm crushes the pillow over her ear and her body curls into a tight ball. A cry for her mother tries and fails to bubble up from her throat. Another rumble and Gaby trembles as she scoots closer to a human comfort that isn't there.

 _This is ridiculous_ , her rational mind chimes in. She is a grown woman who has faced death, torture and tyrannical governments. A thunderstorm, however, is all it takes to get her whimpering like a child, hiding under the duvet in the dark. _Pathetic_. 

Gaby's face emerges from under the pillow and she tentatively sits upright. In the past, during rainstorms in the German summer, Gaby would retreat to her sitting room with its lights and pirated western radio. She would spend the early morning hours trying to ignore the storm with alcohol and music. It had worked for the most part, but the following day left her in a fog of exhaustion.

She wonders if Napoleon will be up at this hour and whether he'll join her for a drink in a well-lit room. Gaby then remembers that her partner is off distracting another woman this evening. For the first time Gaby is jealous of the woman who is sharing Napoleon's bed. At least she has a warm body to curl against during the thunderstorm.

Gaby's mind wanders to the other warm body sleeping in a room down the hall in the safe house. For weeks she has been cutting off any thoughts of him that cross her mind in the dead of night. She was trying her damnedest to keep things professional with Illya, as Waverly had delicately instructed her to, but sometimes when she was alone in the darkness she couldn't help but wonder if...

A pop of thunder shook the sky like a bomb blast and Gaby's hairs stood on end as she pulled the duvet to her face. There was no way she was going to sleep through this and with a mission to complete the following evening she couldn't afford to spend the next day in a state of fatigue.

Huffing in frustration Gaby decides that she needs to sleep and convinces herself that she can't do that alone. Waiting to make sure the storm had entered into a lull, Gaby gathers her duvet around her for protection and tip toes to the door. She peeps her head into the narrow hallway. Distant lightening illuminates the hall and the shadows of tree branches dance across the wall for an instant.

Light-footed with duvet dragging on the wooden floor, Gaby approaches the door to Illya's room. Her hand hovers above the knob. She feels the sudden icy bite of shame when she realizes the irony of her situation; a German orphan haunted by memories of the Battle of Berlin seeking comfort from a Russian soldier. It doesn't sit well in her stomach at all and she bristles with self-loathing.

Turning on her heel Gaby steps a little too heavily on a creaky floorboard. She grits her teeth and her fists tighten in the duvet. She hopes he didn't hear that.

The door behind her rips open and Gaby stares down the barrel of a Makarov pistol aimed directly at her face. The pistol's owner sighs and lowers his arm.

"What are you doing?" Illya asks, taking in the sight of her wrapped completely in a duvet. He seems somewhat amused despite his rude awakening.

Gaby clears her throat. "I couldn't sleep," she says honestly.

"Because of storm?" he asks from the dark doorway.

Gaby nods her head in the duvet.

Illya rubs the back of his head, hair mussed from sleep, unsure of how to approach this situation.

They stand about, all shifting feet and twitching hands.

"Do you-" Illya began.

The loudest clash of thunder yet sends Gaby scurrying past Illya and into the bed, still warm from its recent occupant.

Gaby hides under the duvet, from a mixture of fear and embarrassment. She hears Illya close the door and place his gun on the table.

There is a hesitation before she feels his weight come down on the mattress and stretch out next to her.

"I did not think you would be afraid of something like storm," he says from beside her.

"I'm not afraid," she retorts with a muffled voice, "I'm just startled."

Gaby jerks and curls tighter at the next clap of thunder. Illya laughs softly and peels back a layer of duvet to expose Gaby's face.

"It reminds me of the war," she confesses, "I always have bad dreams when there are storms at night and then I can't sleep."

Illya nods, understanding, bringing his own duvet up to cover his chest. It dawns on Gaby that Illya was not one of the Russian soldiers who had invaded her city and terrorized its citizens, and that, at the time, he was probably just another frightened child failing to comprehend the violence and confusion around him. The war had been cruel to civilians on both sides and years later their children still carried psychological scars that would likely never heal.

Gaby rolls closer to Illya, the nearby warmth of his body already easing her tense nerves. Illya responds by turning onto his side and wrapping a tentative arm around her. She can feel the faint vibration of his heart pounding in his chest.

They lie in silence, listening to the sound of each other's breathing and the rain pattering on the windowpane. Gaby feels the tension ebb from Illya and they both melt into the mattress and each other.

More thunder roils just outside the window. Gaby's body twitches and Illya instinctively tightens his arm around her.

"Were you in Berlin, at the end?" Illya asks, his voice muffled in her hair.

Gaby shields her face from a flash of lightening by hiding it against his chest.

"Yes," she answers, her nose against the dip in his clavicle, "we should have left when my father did, but my mother believed he would come back for us. He didn't."

Illya's hand moves absentmindedly on her back in soothing circles.

"She died then, my mother, during the battle. I don't know how. I'm not sure if I ever knew or if I just made myself forget," Gaby continues. She doesn't know why she is telling Illya this, she hasn't even told Waverly the details of her mother's life and death.

"I'm sorry," Illya whispers, fingers moving lightly against the back of her neck.

Gaby shrugs in his arms. "I wasn't the only one to lose a parent and I was better off in the end than many," Gaby says.

The storm continues to rage outside, but even the loudest eruptions hardly elicit a tremble from Gaby, who is now wrapped in warmth. Her eyelids grow heavy and she feels herself slipping back into sleep.

"Thank you," she mutters drowsily against his shoulder, "for protecting me from the thunder."

A soft chuckle reverberates through his chest. "You are safe, Little Chop Shop Girl," he says kissing the crown of her head.

Gaby falls into a deep, dreamless sleep to the sound of rainfall.


End file.
